The Writing Challenge

Can I make a confession?

I haven't felt like writing in a long time. Now that won't come as a surprise to regular readers who expect me to post something once a week. It's been over a month since I've posted anything, and the last one wasn't even mine - it was a guest blog from my dear daughter.

This is unusual for me. Writing is by far my most effective means of communication. I'm a slow processor as well as an introvert, so my spoken words are hardly profound -- at best they are factual observations and at worst they tend to be a spew of unfiltered reactions that I long to reel back in before they do any damage.

So back to writing. Why have I been resisting the admittedly strong urge to journal or blog lately? Why have I found any excuse, valid or otherwise, not to sit down for a few minutes and share my experiences as an expat in France?

I think it's because life has entered a new season. We're technically more than halfway through a 3-year commitment in Lyon, and I guess I've entered a "mid-life crisis" of sorts. Part of my heart cherishes my new vie française, while the other half beckons me back to my American comfort zone.

The second big thing that's happened recently has only intensified the tide-like pull back across the Atlantic: Lori was accepted to a university in North Carolina and will be starting classes there this August. While I'm thrilled beyond measure for her, I cry silently inside every time I think about leaving her stateside without us. This summer will be a very bittersweet time indeed as we return to the US for several weeks to visit family, raise financial support, take a much needed mini-vacation, and, at the end of it all, drop Lori off at college. I don't even want to think about getting back on that plane heading towards France without her!

Yet, it's time. Children grow up, and they should leave the nest. Hard decisions about staying or moving on have been weighed, prayed about, prayed about some more, and determined.

These realities are so emotional, so raw and personal and tender...that's why I haven't wanted to write about them. Writing them down for everyone to see exposes my heart, in its weakness and vulnerability. Keeping the mask on, the façade all shined up and pretty, is so much more comfortable. But this is reality - it's definitely a challenging one, yet this is a season that I want to remember and document in my journey.

Therefore, I choose to take the mask off.

And write.